


For Freedom, For Mandalore

by TheBlackWidower



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, Romance, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackWidower/pseuds/TheBlackWidower
Summary: I watched the season finale and was quite pleased the way they ended rebels. However...Rebels cannot be ended. I refuse. Hence why I am here! This is my second story and will incorporate whatever's happened up to and including season 4 except the fact that Ezra was on the ship when the Purgels decided to book it. So Thrawn's stuck with them, Lothal is free etc. And now into the actual summary :After barely escaping the Purgels, Ezra is congratulated by the crew and the people of Lothal as their savior. But this is just the beginning, as Mandalore requests assistance from the Ghost Crew to fully liberate Mandalore. The assassination of Bo Katan has left a power vacuum in Mandalore's rebellion for independence. Left to fight with what little remains of her forces, the Ghost Crew is thrust into a world where everything is questioned. Morals, one's core values and way of life, come into question. Should they sacrifice all they achieve or hope to achieve just because it isn't the right thing to do? What is the "right" thing to do?





	1. I

"... the assassination of Bo Katan has left the Rebel troops upon Mandalore scared, disorganized and weak against the might of our Stormtroopers. Already, most of Mandalore is under the control of the Empire and soon all rebel presence will be destroyed. Again, the Empire has brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to the Galaxy!"

 

An uproar of the crowds was heard through the intercepted transmission, the dire news causing silence to befall the Ghost Crew upon their ship. The once comforting walls were now enclosing upon the crew members, suffocating them, squeezing them. They stared dumbfounded at the news they had just heard, the destruction the Mandalorian rebellion would only cause many to leave the rebellion in fear of the Empire. The once mighty warriors were now, again, the slaves of the Empire and the Rebellion did not lift a single finger to aid, assist or defend their allies.

“We’ve...we have to do something about this...right?” asked the blue-haired teenager, anxiety written in clear print across his face.

“We have a responsibility, to Mandalore and to the Rebellion. We need to aid our allies in their time of need. If not, how are we any better than the one we fight against? Ezra is right. We need to fight the Empire and help Mandalore.” came the response from the blinded yet still astute and clear-minded Jedi Knight, Kanan Jarrus.

His once blue eyes now covered in a mist of white with a dark scar running across his face where the red saber had once slashed. The crew restlessly shuffled around, unsure and still undecided even with the wise and courageous words spoken by the force wielders, their brows furrowed in thought.

“What...what of the moon, Krownest? Is it still…” Sabine subtly asked her crew members, wondering about her family and loved ones, “Is my family alive?”

“I’m sure their fine Sabine, they are hearty warriors and people of strong conviction. The Empire would have a hard time making a dent in them,” reassured Hera, her voice seeming to calm the young Mandalorian, to an extent.

“Hopefully.”

“We fight off that, remember?” Jested Hera, gaining smiles across the crew.

The crew quickly became silent, all of them unsure of what to exactly do, when to do it, who to follow.

_Kanan...the Mandalorians need a leader...a strong one…_

_I know, and I have a good idea who._

_Who’s that, master?_

_Why our Sabine Wren of course._

_Kanan, are you actually-_

_Yes. There’s a power vacuum and when we’re talking about the Mandalorians, they need someone who can wield the Darksaber. Sabine, with our training, can be that leader, the leader that brings Mandalore back from under the Empire’s boot._

_What if she doesn’t accept? She refused it before._

_That’s when there was an alternative to her leadership, another true and viable leader. Now there are warlords and the Empire, and I won’t settle with either one._

_Maybe try to ask her after this news settles in? Maybe..._

_We don't have the time, Ezra. We need to act now!_

_Hm... I'll bring it up then._

 

Finally, Ezra spoke up again, his once childish voice from years past now carrying weight, and maturity with it,

“We fight. We did it without the Rebellion before, on Lothal. We can do it again, but this time on Mandalore. We are not alone this time, however. We have the Mandalorians on our side. They are strong people, yet lack a strong leader. And we need to give them that leader.” his eyes turning to Sabine, now wide open with surprise, confusion, and fear.

"Hold on a second, ME?” she cried out, her head swinging between the crew members in bewilderment. “You guys can’t be serious! We’ve been through this already, it's why I gave the Darksaber to Bo!”

“It was you, who have wielded the Darksaber. You who have worked tirelessly with the Rebellion and with your people. And you who have fought valiantly for both. I don’t see how they can just forget that, Sabine.” replied Kanan, his voice confident yet held his voice in check as to not poke the Mandalorian already distraught by the news.

“They wouldn’t accept an outcast, no matter what I’ve done since then. There was a reason why they kicked me out, Kanan. Because I gave the Empire the weapon they needed to kill my people. Because I betrayed them. Because I turned my back on my people!” She yelled back in response, tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill. Yet the Mandalorian would have none of that, blinking them back.

“I won’t.”

“Sabine, please jus-”

“No, Kanan...No.”

“Sabine they nee-”

“They need a true Mandalorian! Not me!” she yelled out, gesturing to herself in disdain and disgust, “Not a traitor! Not a...a...backstabbing-”

“Enough, both of you.” Came Hera’s reasonable voice, attempting to soothe the situation and emotions at hand before anything got irreparable. Nodding, Kanan backed off yet Sabine shook her head and left the room, the rest of the crew members sitting down, staring at their shoes or out the glass with regret.

“Perhaps...Perhaps I was wrong.” Came a quiet admission from the Jedi Knight

“Hmm. 'Bit soft on yourself there, aren't you?” came the gruff reply from the purple Lasat,  
“If I were her, I would’ve knocked you senseless for trying to sell her that idea. Kinda of...what's the word for it?”

“Retarded?” came a suggestion from Ezra, a small smile lifting his face up.

“Yes!”

“Alright, alright...I kriffed up…” came the guilt-filled reply from Kanan, "I should go talk to-"

"I  _did_ bring the whole thing up. It's my duty to apologize, to make amends." came the quiet reply from Ezra

Nodding his approval, Kanan left the members to retreat back to his room, the door swishing shut behind him. With that, the rest of the crew emptied out till Ezra was alone. The metal walls, paintless and plain, were dead of all life, their color drained. The darkness of space unchanged, its back vacuum offering no comforts to the distressed teenager. 

_It was Kanan's idea...our idea. I hold responsibility as well._

Getting up, he made his way through the Ghost till he reached Sabine's door. He felt the confusion, pain, and guilt emanating from her, through the door. The durasteel plate offering no advice nor comfort to the indecisive man. 

_The whole Galaxy could change, and I need to knock on this door and talk to that women._

Steeling himself against the odds he faced, he raised his hand and wrapped lightly yet decisivly against he door.

 

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so the second chapter of my second fic. I know its a bit slow but it did say EVENTUAL soooo. Sorry? Regardless, I'm a bit rusty with my writing, I know, so feedback is extremely appreciated. Now more than ever. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter to the story and I will continue this sometime the following week. Cheers!

_What were they thinking? Me? Ha. They'd rather have an imperial, at least they're loyal to a cause._

Absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn't realize that someone was knocking on the door till she heard her name being called,

"Sabine?"

Sighing, she got up from the bed, unsure if to respond or ignore Ezra. Looking around, her eyes wandered across the room, taking in the sights of her artwork, admiring it. Her eyes settled on one piece, a piece that took her long, arduous hours to complete. A piece that was cultivated since the time she left Mandalore, all those years ago. It was a picture of her family, looking across the fields of Krownest. Shaking on her gauntlets and boots, she stood and walked to the painting. Lightly running her hands across the fabric, wishing that she could jump into the painting, back in time, and fix all the mistakes she made. Fix herself. Have her family.

_My former family. I lost that chance a long time ago_

"Sabine? You there?"

Sighing again, she gathered her resolve and pushed her emotions down, removing the threat of them spilling over. Removing the threat of it breaking her.

"Yes" came her short, clipped reply. She was hoping that they would leave her alone, to gather her thoughts and resolve.

"I...I came to apologize..."

"For what?" Came a confused reply from the Mandalorian, unsure why he was here or what he was apologizing for.

"For...for what happened. I shouldn't have brought it up and...and I'm sorry for putting you in that situation."

Opening the door, she faced a truly guilty and remorseful. His blue eyes not daring to meet hers and instead were staring into hands, worn by battle and training alike. Anxiously wringing them together, he cleared his throat and mumbled,

"Yea uh...*hmhm* I understand that your family and past are uhh touchy subjects and-"

"Ezra, its ok...Don't stress yourself too much, I get it. We make mistakes and we learn from them." She gently interrupted the stressed teenager, hoping to calm him down and not take the blame too much.

"The thing is...I should've known. I should've known how much this could hurt and...and it makes me sick that I didn't see that."

"We all lost something to the Empire, Ezra. And you being able to go back to Lothal without...without..." she trailed off, unsure of how to express the emotions they would have felt, "It makes you a stronger person."

Raising his eyes and locking onto hers, he nodded. His electric blue eyes understanding of their predicament and past. Their purpose for the Rebellion and why they fight the Empire.

"It's easier for me...They loved me till they died. It's easier when they're dead"

“Ezra…”

“You have a chance, Sabine...Don’t let it...die ok? I didn’t have a chance like this and...and I wish I did. At least you have a chance. Don’t let it go to waste, Sabine.”  
He swallowed nervously. waiting, gauging her reaction but all he got was surprise and shame. Sighing, he turned around and started to walk away, hoping that this didn’t ruin everything between them, that he didn’t make her feel worse or guilty.

“Ezra?”

Turning around, he met her amber-gold eyes full of an unknown, raw emotion. Guilt ran deep in them, to the core of her person. Guilt for what she did, and what she almost refused to do.

“I…” she swallowed, her emotions coming to bear. Soon her eyes filled with tears and regret but she would not allow them to spill, to tarnish her reputation of a warrior. Wiping her eyes angrily, she cleared her throat and spoke,

“They loved me once, Ezra, before I did what I did. I deserve their anger, contempt, and disdain for my... _my treason_ ,” she growled out, emphasizing the last word. Clenching her fists, she gruffly answered,

“I will be their leader _if they choose me_. Don’t you see? I’m not ready, I’m not fit, I…” she trailed off, looking away. Sniffling she turned back around, hoping to find solace in the darkness of her room, away from the questions.

“It’s ok, Sabine...I know-”

“No! You don’t know! Their not dead, not like yours!” She immediately regretted her words as they left her mouth, her eyes widening as she heard them herself.

Ezra looked back at her in shock and hurt. He opened his mouth to say something then abruptly closed it. His eyes hardened to ice and he clenched his jaw tightly.

“Goodnight, Sabine” he quickly spoke, leaving her standing by her door, guilt eating her raw.

Ezra quickly walked down the hallway, the metal walls closing in on him. Gritting his teeth, he realized that he needed to let go, to find neutrality. Running his hand through his shortly cropped hair, he growled in frustration. With haste, he grabbed his lightsaber and went down to the cargo bay in the Ghost.

He and Kanan had placed dummies for training. In this case, they were used as objects to beat, torture and maim. For Ezra had to let out his frustrations in silence. The metal durasteel bodies stood no chance, even with a lightsaber set to training, with the gorges in the metal bodies that left them indistinguishable to a metal plate set vertically.

“You know, they put up quite a fight.” Came the sarcastic comment from the blind Jedi standing over his apprentice, having watched him the whole time. 

“Had some...emotions, master. I needed to placate them.” he curtly responded, not wanting to divulge any more information than necessary. He narrowed his eyes at the dummies, thinking about what Sabine said. Thinking about his parents. Roughly rolling his shoulders, he deactivated his green lightsaber, its glow ceasing to exist, and walked past his master who had remained silent. His blind eyes seeing nothing and everything. 

"You can talk to me, Ezra. I only want to help."

"I know, Kanan. But you can't help me with this one." came the short, and forced reply.

"Your parents?"

"Yes, can we leave it? I rather not talk."

Nodding his assent, Kanan turned around and walked off, hoping to give space to this apprentice. He understood that talking to him when his emotions still strong would yield no gains. He only hoped that whatever happened, it wouldn't affect him to seriously.

 

By this time, Ezra had made his way through the ship looking for anything to do, to take up his time. He knew about the secret stash drinks under a secure latch in the kitchen, but he knew he shouldn't, not even under these circumstances. 

_Not even because of my parents?_

The thoughts were running through his minds as he reached the kitchen, making his way to the latch under the cafe machine. It looked like one of the many other levers in the kitchen but he knew what it was for. He had seen Kanan and Zeb use it once,  while he watched with earnest at a safe distance away, curious of what they were drinking and why it made them so over the top. 

_I'm a soldier now. I lead a soldier's life._

Pulling the lever down with conviction, it opened a small compartment.  He looked into the small opening with curiosity and small bits of fear, as he was expecting anyone to turn the corner and find him. Quickly steeling himself, he grabbed one of the many bottles and brought it to bear. Scrutinizing it, he realized that it held a very peculiar color: Green. 

Sighing, he plucked the small cork from the top and sniffed the concoction, only to receive a strong and bitter order that would never be forgotten.

_Was I expecting anything good?_

Pouring a small amount into a glass he recalled that Kanan and Zeb would "shoot" it down, as they would say. Grumbling, he gulped in nervousness and tilted his head back as the liquid ran across his tongue and down his throat. The burning sensation was almost unbearable, followed by an almost comforting warmth in his stomach. Shaking his head he felt a tad off balance, and quickly took a seat. Flexing his hands, he quickly poured another into the glass and took it, the warmth spreading throughout his body while the burns became almost enjoyable. Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and looked out the glass panel and into the dark, yet comforting of sorts, vacuum of space. He felt sleep coming to him, taking over him before he was interrupted by a light yet amused female voice,

"You know, its better to talk about you problems than drink them away."

 

 

 


	3. III

Ezra stared at the empty glass before him, attempting to recall anything of import to respond to her statement. Trying to figure out if he was truly angry at her, or if he was just overreacting. Letting out a sigh, he slumped his shoulders and leaned back in his seat, shifting his eyes to the glass, the green staring back into the electric blue. Nervously, he cracked his knuckles through a fist and his neck through a side to side motion, sending the sound reverberating around the room. Swallowing thickly and licking his lips, he replied,

"It best to talk to someone while drinking."

A crude yet amused laugh came in response, with a smile gracing his lips in return as he had hoped for that reaction.

"I can say, from experience, that you, my friend, are very very wrong," she replied, a gleam in her eyes holding back an untold story of drunken nights with strangers of all sorts,

"Why, enlighten me, Countess! Surely you must know, oh wise one" Ezra sarcastically responded, his eyes still staring absentmindedly at the untouched drink laying on the counter.

Sudden silence entered the room, swallowing everything. Concerned with the lack of response, Ezra turned back to find Sabine deep thought, her eyes drifted into space.

"Before I joined the Rebellion, I was alone with no one, had no one. Well, I had the bottle but as you might guess, it didn't help that much. Only to sooth the pain. Regardless, its safe to say that after numerous drunken brawls that left me on the floor with broken bones, I decided that it was best to drop it. At least reduce how much I drink so I don't end up dead on the floor with a blaster bolt in my chest. Funny, maybe it would've saved my family much pain if they knew I was dead and not running around with the Rebellion."

"Sabine, deep down somewhere, they'll always love you. I can vouch for that. Even now, through your own pain, I can see your love for them. Why do you hide from it?" he asked quietly, hoping not to invoke her anger again.

"Truly? I don't. I still do love them, I know it. Even after what they did. I hope they forgive me. Anyways, I came to apologize. What I said earlier, it...it was wrong and I didn't mean it. I should know better but I acted upon my emotions than my wit and I hurt you.

Ezra looked up into her golden-hazel eyes that were sifting through countless of different, varying emotions that all told a different story. Yet one was more pronounced than the others: Regret.

Heaving a sigh, he responded, "Don't worry about it...its fine. I understand that you were upset and.., now it doesn't matter." Looking around and gesturing with his hand, "You tired? Probably should get some rest. It's late."

"Not tired. In fact, a drink would be nice. I don't entirely trust myself, so I'm counting on you to make sure I don't...well you know!" she frustratedly told Ezra as his eyes, brimming with amusement, met her's.

Pulling a chair up next to him, she sat down and grabbed an empty glass and the bottle. Popping open the cork, she sniffed the green mixture only to be repulsed with a gag. Tears in her eyes, she looked up at Ezra,

"You drank this? Not bad for a padawan"

Sheepishly nodding, Ezra tilted his head back and downed another glass of the substance to Sabines anger, confusion, amazement and disgust. Grinning, he, with some difficulty, swallowed the substance. As he turned to face her again, he realized that she was clad in only her bodysuit, her womanly curves pronounced and present. Her hair, now a deep purple, blending into the black yet still stood out, noticeable only to a smart eye. She was, in his eyes, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Yet he kept that close to his heart, rarely letting it show when no one was around. Not even Kanan knew. They all knew about the young teenage crush he had on her when he first came but that had changed. He made it seem that it died down but he simply hid it, fostered it, let it grow into something more significant. It had gnawed at him for years yet he persisted, hoping to go through with it. Sabine, unknown to the quiet and quick scan of Ezra's eyes, focused on the bottle that was still in front of her, its presence at the forefront of her mind. Not to be outdone by the younger teenager, she grabbed the bottle with conviction and bravado and poured a glass of her own. She then tilted her head back and swallowed the drink with obvious ease and experience, shaking her head as the warmth spread across her body and her mind felt a tad lighter.

"You know...this feeling? I really missed it. At least here I can kriffing drunk without getting shot."

"I don't know about that actually. Hera uh...She might just shoot us for this. Bet you she doesn't even know! I only saw Kanan and Zeb use it!"

She quickly poured another glass, eager to open the lock of freedom with the key of booze, and downed it swallowing thickly. Her speech, impeccable due to resistance to the drug, asked,

"You want to bet? Ezra, oh your smart but don't bet against a Mandalorian! Didn't you learn as much?"

“Well, we fought you and won so…”

“Shut up Ezra! I would win in a fist fight!”

“That's saying Jabba the Hutt would win in a fat contest!”

A hard slug to his arm quickly reminded the young man that Sabine Wren of Krownest was in charge and no shit was being taken from her. She gave him a hard stare to which he quickly raised his arms in defeat.

“Fine, fine, you win! Now, as the victor, give us both another round!”

“My pleasure oh young one,” Sabine answered, imitating Kanan’s speech of belittling Ezra.

“You know, I think I would take you up on the fist fight. And since you’re you, I think dirty tricks are on the table!” Ezra cockily responded, earning a raised eyebrow from Sabine. Her hazel brown eyes quizzically stared down the Padawan.

“Dirty tricks? You think vambrace repulsors are dirty tricks!? Oh, my. You're in for a treat!”

“Am I? I think being able to read your mind would make it quite easy, Mrs. Wren.”

“You can read my mind, Ezra? Prove it!"

"Easy, you're thinking about..." he trailed off before looking at her, bewildered, "Your WESTAR 35 blasters?"

"...now hold on a second, Ezra. This is hardl-"

"Ok, ok. I won't do it again, Sabine. I respect people's privac-"

"Bantha shit you do. Get out of my head! Now!"

"Alright! Don't worry! Now let's just drink. Forget about fighting...for now."

"Hm. For now."

With that, the two teen's drank the remainder of their glasses' content and with a content sigh. Ezra, influenced by drink and desire, snuck another glance at the woman next to him, appreciating her in his own way. Respecting the strength underneath the seemingly unthreatening body. Sabine, however, was not oblivious to Ezra's look this time and raised an eyebrow at him while he was distracted.

"You like?" she asked, quietly yet with amusement laced in her voice

"Huh? Like what? I wasn't loo-"

"Ezra, please! It was  _so_ obvious! I know you  _men_ can't resist but we aren't blind either!"

"Well...I mean to answer your question then...Yea." he sheepishly, his words almost drunkenly slurred at this point

Sabine cocked her head to one side, her purple bangs falling to her left as she turned towards him fully. Silence filled the room as Ezra nervously swallowed in stress.

"How much?"

"How much what?" he asked, confused at her question

"How much do you like the way I  _look_ , Ezra! By the force, you men are DULL!"

Smirking, he turned to face her, his answer already made up.

"Easy. You're the most beautiful woman I ha-"

"Shab Ezra! Common I can't have been...We've been to so many cantinas and inns and you're telling me that me, Sabine Wren-"

"Is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon." he finished, a smile gracing his face. "You're strong, fast, and, by the force,  _smart_! What else am I supposed to think is beautiful?". Narrowing his eyes, Ezra noticed a flush creeping up Sabine's face. Grinning he asked.

"Is that Sabine Wren  _blushing?_ By the force!"

"Shut it Ezra or else I will punch you!"

"No you won't..." he whispered

Locking eyes with her golden brown, he drunkenly smiled. A small giggle escaped Sabine's mouth, a sound that would forever serve as motivation for Ezra's mischievous side to hear again. 

"You know, Ezra, I think I'm quite drunk. I know  _you're_ drunk."

A laugh came from both of them, resonating in the room. Absentmindedly, they interlocked their fingers on the table as they looked into each other's eyes. 

"I think one more drink and we should head to bed. Before we get caught"  

"Now that's logical of you Ezra but not fair. You had two before I came. Its only fair I get those two before bed as well." came a whisper from Sabine, her eyes lit with untold ideas.

"You want all three in a glass? Well, who am I to refuse the Great Sabine Wren! Destroyer of the-"

  
"Hand me the kriffing bottle, Bridger. Before I hit you into hyperspace."

Surrendering the bottle, Ezra finished his drink and looked as Sabine poured a full glass of the liquid, consisting of what would be considered three regular portions and then some. Cracking her neck and fingers, Sabine grabbed the glass gingerly and proceded to take the drink in one go, the liquid quickly leaving the bottle and into her mouth. She felt a growing burning sensation in her throat that spread to her stomach. The once warm feeling that occurred with previous drinks never occurred, only a significant blurring of vision and a searing pain throughout her upper body. Belching, she shuddered at the taste and bitterness. Burping again, she grinned half-heartedly and thoroughly drunk.

"I *burp* think I'm drunk...Kriff this feels good. You...Damn..."

"Wow...thought you said you could handle your weight, Mrs. Wren."

Snapping her head to him, she raised an unsteady finger before belching again to the amusement of both of them.

"Don't you dare, Bridger. I will..."

"What will drunk Mrs. Wren do? Poor thing!"

"Bridger! Stop! Or else!"

"Nope. Regardless, you can't stop me!"

Locking her eyes with Ezra, she narrowed her eyebrows and answered,

"Oh, I don't think so."

With that, she lurched forward and grabbed Ezra's hair around the back of his head. Taking advantage of the surprise, she cupped his face with her other hand and pressed her lips to his, silencing his outburst of confusion. Wide-eyed, drunk and off balance, Ezra was stone, unable to move or react. Soon, however, he came to the realization of what was happening and responded eagerly. His lips molded to hers as they pushed against each other. Ezra's hands soon wandered Sabine's waist and back, coming to her hair which he rung his hands through. In a drunken haze, Sabine pushed against Ezra, trying to deepen the kiss and placate her desires. Off balance, the two stumbled of their chairs as Sabine landed on top of Ezra with a stupid smirk plastered across his face. 

"You win, Sabine. You win."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter IV

Staring at the mirror in front of him, he attempted to replay the events that occurred on the previous night. His bleary, bloodshot eyes, covered over by wisps of blue hair, were aimlessly looking for an answer he couldn’t find. Under normal circumstance, it would’ve have been difficult enough to figure out what to ask, how to approach her, what the backup plan was if she closed her self off and…and…

_ It was just a drunken kiss to get me to shut up, nothing more, it meant nothing more. _

But he was still going to ask her. He turned the tap on, wrenching it to the left. Peace washed over him for a few moments as the hot-warm water splashed and ran down his forearms, arcing off of his fingertips and down into the sink. Letting out a content sigh, he rested his weight on his elbows, bringing his feet, one at a time, to his ass and smiled as he heard the knees crack. At this point the water, to his perception, was not warm enough but he was not interested in washing only his arms. Swiping his arm right, he swiftly closed the tap, the rushing water abruptly stopping and silence, with the exception of the distance rumbling of the ship, enveloping him. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he noted the dank and musty smell of sweat and the sharp and jarring smell of alcohol mixed within his orange T-shirt. Grumbling, he twisted his torso, earning him the sweet release of pressure in his hip, waist and back joints with loud snapping sounds reverberating around the small refresher room. He paused for a second, contemplating if he should instead head back to the bed he whence came from, the alluring warmth and soft, fur-like mattress which imbued a sense of weightlessness were all factors of benefit for the young man. Shrugging off his urges yet again, he proceeded to strip his shirt from his body, the used fabric stubbornly sticking to his skin like a glove. He threw the stinking shirt in the corner, sighing as his hands absentmindedly went to his belt, picking at the mechanism that held it in place. Soon the remaining material had been removed, lying in a heap in the corner, as the young man took an exhausting shower, trying to remove the constant and mind-dulling throb of a headache. Slipping on clean, unobtrusive clothing of the same color, he took a quick glance at the mirror to figure out how bad he looked after the previous night. Though dissatisfied with the bloodshot eyes that never went and the heaviness of one’s limbs when deprived of sleep, he quickly left the refresher and into the common room.

He heard them talking before he saw the three of them, the  _ adults _ as he and Sabine would call them from time to time. Their volume never rose but he could distinctly hear Hera over the rest, the concern evident in her voice. He knew that it would be better just to admit it, not to fight. He wasn’t some stubborn kid anymore and he needed to take responsibility for his actions. His thoughts suddenly shifted back to last night. It wasn’t the first time he had alcohol, technically, but who would argue that the first time they had alcohol was when they asked ‘Let me have a taste’? No, last night was the first,  _ the true  _ night with alcohol, and oh did he hate it. 

Impatiently, he pressed the small button on the panel near the door causing the blast doors open. The three of them sitting on the table he and Sabine drank on the previous night, the bottle of force knows what within Hera’s grasp, under her scrutiny. The talking adults didn’t seem to notice the young man walking into the common area, being more invested and interested in each other and the conversation. It wasn't until he sniffled and groaned did Kanan notice him standing here, haggard as he was. The silence was all that greeted him. Kanan was against him taking such actions, he knew. They had spoken briefly about this before but it never really occurred to Ezra that they would take it seriously. 

“Hera, Zeb, give me and Ezra some time, please. We need to talk

“Just give me the pill, I’ll explain when I get rid of this damn headache.” he didn’t even try to hide it.

With a nod from the captain, Zeb handed him the pill and a glass of water. Ezra muttered his thanks, getting a smirk and a shrug from the purple beast before him and the green-skinned Twi’lek left. Lightly placing the pill in his mouth, he quickly drank the water. Finding a seat behind him, he sat down and rested his head, the constant shots of pain slowly subsiding into nothing. Within minutes he felt ready for the day but as he got up an arm was gently yet firmly placed on his shoulder, with the soft words,

“Now explain. I not that angry, but I’m concerned. All of us are. I still think you're too young, but there’s to side to every story.” 

“Well…the talk with Sabine kind of backfired on me. I decided to train, as you know, and when that didn’t work…”

“What did she say?”

Looking around, he wondered if he should sell her out, give her part of the blame. 

_ Where  _ **_is_ ** _ Sabine? Probably trying to get rid of her headache without getting caught, that’s what.” _

“A lot of things, Kanan.”

“About what you feel for her?” came his question, reeling his mind back to the previous night. To their kiss.

“No. She spoke about my parents. In her haste...well it doesn’t matter anymore, Kanan. She apologized.”  _ In her own way. _

He looked at him in confusion and concern but soon turned away to busy himself with other business, leaving the tired and hungry man to his own devices. Heaving a sigh, he proceeded to shuffle to the kitchen, hoping to get the food he craved for. With his stomach make sounds, he simply ate one of the emergency military rations supplied by the Alliance. The bland, unmemorable taste soothing his ache for food. He was left undisturbed, similarly to the previous night, before the same voice broke the silence, taking him from his thoughts.

“Are they gone yet?”

Turning around, he has met the hazel-gold eyes of Sabine Wren with his own blue, charged with the sudden appearance of her. As she approached, her face was evidently worn, eyes now bloodshot from the lack sleep, restlessly shifting as the aches spread in concurrence of her heartbeat throughout her head.

“The  _ adults? _ Yea, their gone. The tablet is in one of the draws-”

“I know.” came the gruff reply, interrupting him as the haggard woman trudged onwards, not letting others to see the weakness underneath her porcelain skin. Shaking his head in confusion, Ezra continued to eat his meal and attempted focus solely on it, the hard and sticky brown bar that was considered food. Yet such an action, of ignoring her, was taxing on the man; the silence  _ eating _ him _.  _

A sigh from Sabine broke the tense silence, coupled with the pouring and drinking of water. The seat next to Ezra was soon occupied by her, the two sitting in awkward acknowledgment of the each other. Neither meeting the other’s eye in embarrassment, both unsure of what to say.

“Sorry...Had just gotten up and...kriff, Ezra, you know I not always this...callous.” her eyes looking to his, hope shining through. Hope which soon turned to anger as the blue-haired man next her erupted in laughter, with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Even her best stare couldn’t get him to quiet down as he doubled, chortling. After landing a few successfully punches, Ezra quieted down but the laughter which left his mouth never faded in his eyes. 

“Ok! Ok! Sorry!,” He cried, helplessly trying to retain his laughter, “It’s not that you’re rude all the time or anything but it's not rare, Sabine. Well, at least to me.”

“What do you mean my rudeness isn’t rare?” she asked, befuddled at the notion that she was an inherently bad person.

“What I mean is that you are…well you, and I’ve accepted that. But in reality, you treat me like a kid more often than Kanan does. At least you’re not as bad as Hera. You should’ve seen the way she looked at me as she walked out, leaving me with Kanan!”

“So you and Kanan spoke?” she asked, focusing on his last sentence and disregarding the, in her opinion, pointless banter prior.

“Yea but I didn’t rat you out. I got the stern talking and all. Not like it matters or anything but..” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“What did he ask?”

“Sabine…”

“Ezra, what did he ask!?” she asked forcefully, pulling at his arm that was resting on the counter.

Ezra quickly glanced at the contact before replying,

“Why I did what I did. Sabine, why do you care?” he asked, turning towards her as he let his frustration out.

“Because…Because of what happened.”

Their eyes met, a fury of emotions raging behind the two pairs. Neither knew what the other truly wanted or felt, doubting their own intention’s integrity and apparent flawlessness.

“Did you…want to?” came the hesitant question from Ezra, himself unsure of what exactly transpired the night before, if his feelings were true.

“I…Ezra if I meant it, it wouldn’t matter. We’re in a war and…it only makes us weaker.” She said, coldly yet not without sound logic. Something that could work for Ezra. If he wasn’t breaking slowly apart on the inside. He kept his composure on the outside set, allowing no cracks to be found yet knew that if he kept staring into those golden brown eyes, he would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. 

“So that…it was just a drunken kiss? A mistake?” he asked, his tone even and diplomatic but beneath, his fists clenched, the white of his knuckles were showing. Something that Sabine didn’t miss.

Sabine gave a small smile, her beauty that would normally transfix him now causing him more anger and disappointment that he could ever imagine. Life had given him a golden apple last night, but a poisoned one, one that would kill him faster than a lightsaber in his gut.

“I don’t know anymore, Ezra. But we have a duty to the Alliance, to the Galaxy…I have a duty to my world as you did. Would you have let your feelings for me come in the way for that?” she questioned, knowing his answer before he would eventually say it.

“No…I wouldn’t. But I can’t equate you to a planet, no matter what I feel for you.” he replied, calling out the logical fallacy. 

“So I can’t equate you to Mandalore!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. 

“I’m not asking you to, Sabine. I just want a clear answer on…on us.”

“I…” she trailed off, looking into his eyes once more before briefly glancing out the spaceport window, behind the kitchen. The stars shone back at her, through the slightly tinted glass. Each home to billions or trillions of beings, all of whom were under the rule of the Empire. 

“Sabine…” he pleaded, “Just tell me.”

“We  _ can’t _ Ezra! No matter what I feel. What you feel. It wasn’t a mistake but it wasn't an intelligent move either. We were drunk and…and…”

She looked into his blue eyes, the same blue eyes that had been with her for years. Years of fighting side by side, through deaths of comrades and allies. The same blue eyes that stared back at her as he saved her over and over again. 

“Ezra, we-“

She was cut off as the blast door opened revealing the green Twi’lek, Hera. One quick look from the seasoned pilot and she knew that Sabine had taken part in emptying the bottle the previous night.

“I take it that you’ve helped your self to relieve you of the headache you must have had?”

 

**Sabine POV**

 

“…relive you of a headache you must have had?”

Of course, it had to be Hera, of course. Only she would know. Waking up was difficult, I’m inclined to admit. Even for a Mandalorian. However, I wouldn’t go so far and say that I was completely responsible for what occurred last night, even though Ezra is eighteen going on twelve. Nevertheless, I nod in response, shrinking into my seat, thus making myself a smaller target for her scrutiny. She spared Ezra another hard stare before walking about, gathering the materials to create a cup of coffee. The silence stretched between the three of us, Ezra glancing at my direction a number of times, concern and confusion littered in his face. Steam rose in front of them as the hot water was poured into the cup, a brown substance filling the cup near the brim.

“We’ll be talking about the importance of the mission coming up. Sabine?”

“Yes?”

“You might want to come. It's about your brother, Tristan.” came the hesitant reply, regret pooling in Hera’s eyes, concern in my own.

“What about him?” I exclaimed, standing up in my seat, my hands wrought together in anxiousness and fear. Ezra was right, no matter what they did I always had an inkling of love left in me. Some days it grew and other days it shrank, but it never disappeared. I only could wish that they still had it within them to accept me back one day. 

“He…he’s captured, Sabine. Our spies say he’s to be executed for high treason”

**_Three weeks after the events that transpired upon the Ghost_ **

_ (No POV) _

“Are you sure that this was the Imperial Holding Facility? It’s a bit close to the front and they wouldn’t risk keeping Tristan here.” came the frantic whisper from the artist, her helmet covered with blaster marks and burns where the stormtroopers hit. Their marksmanship making impressive leaps as the Empire realized that regular practice and training allowed their troops to fair better against the warriors of Mandalore. The rebels held a mere fraction of the planet, the capital city already thoroughly within the hands of the Imperials, with any attempt of landing a spy in the midsts resulting in catastrophic failure. 

“It’s one of the few facilities we haven’t checked that are within our range. If he’s not in these last few facilities…” he trailed off, leaving Sabine to make her own answer from it. Her fist clenched tight from the thought of giving up on her brother, no matter the how long it has been.

“We won’t leave him and we won’t stop looking for him. No matter how far we have to search.” She answered back roughly, noting the lack of change in her counter part’s stance or body language. It seemed that her attacks or shows of dominance didn’t cow him down as it used to, instead it only accomplished to stretch the distance between them.

“What if he’s already dead?” he whispered, only successful in enraging her further. Her eyes flashed from under the helmet and turned towards her partner,

“Dead? Are serious? You think they would kill the son of a countess?” she yelled out, shoving him in the process.

“You know what? At the rate, this is going-“

“You two would kill each other before the Empire would. Now we’re on the field and both of you need to behave if we are going to find Sabine’s brother.” the blind Jedi interrupted, ‘looking’ at both of them as he trudged forward on the perch they had sat on. The vast expanse before him was littered by only the Imperial holding, its grey and metallic structure juxtaposing the yellow and white of the sand that surrounded them. 

“Dead or alive,” he added, turning his stance towards Sabine, daring her to argue with him. She, seeing through his strategy, remained unaffected on the outside. 

“Now that we’re through with this squabble, lets actually get into the holding,” he commanded, running his hand through his shortened hair. 

“They’ll be expecting us, Master.” came the logical statement from the apprentice, his eyes fixed on the facility in the distance, keeping his distance from the rest of the group. His separation, while unopposed from Kanan, did not remain unrecognized. His departure from regular jokes and interaction was quite noticeable to all on the Ghost yet no one made a move on it. Many accepted the maturity that seemed to befall the young Jedi following their arrival in the Mandalor System though it wasn’t solely due to the events that transpired on Lothal that changed him. The mere weeks on Mandalore has given him insight on the reality of war, the deaths of unnamed comrades and allies. The older man knew that he couldn’t interfere with everything that occurred in Ezra’s life, thus deciding to let the boy he knew for years make the last few steps into adulthood.

His blind gaze scrutinized the horizon as the sun settled in the distance. They would make their approach at nightfall.

 

 


	5. Chapter V

Ezra huddled in the corner, blaster marks scorching the durasteel plate next to him, cursing at the pain of his right arm that was hit by the officer down the hall. Continuous red marks streaked by his face, lighting up the pathway to death before fizzling into the wall. Frantically, he peered behind him, into the perpendicular corridor to find two more troopers attempting to rush his flank. Realizing that he was covered by mere inches of the wall, he reacted quickly to the new threat and threw them against the wall, utilizing his force abilities. The first simply crumpled following the resounding thud, but the second landed with a crack. Peering closer, he saw the odd angle of his head, sickening him to no extent. Swallowing thickly, he pushed past the bodies, one dead and the other unconscious. He was alone, in the East Wing of the prison while the others, according to his tracker, were in the North and West Wings and heading in his direction. Wincing, he ran quietly through the straight passageways, his back open to an easy shot by the stormtroopers rounding the corner, eyeing their comrades on the floor. And an easy shot it was, with the blaster bolt from a stormtrooper catching his right shoulder, immobilizing his arm completely. A scream escaped his lips as he was thrown to the ground, the fear of death growing in his chest as the resounding footsteps closed in, shaking the metal grating below him.

"Sir! We've got him!" announced a Stormtrooper gleefully to his superior. While the grunts were dimwitted, their superiors seemed to have gained a sense of logic during the past years of the rebellion. Such was proven with the response of the officer,

"Kill him, quickly. We might not have another chance."

"But sir, we've gotten orders-" the man in the white armor was cut off as a humming blue blade erupted from his chest cavity, garbling his following words into gasps of pain and fear. The officer whipped around, terror etched onto his face as he slowly backed away, turning to run, making to the intersection of the corridors before being gunned down by another from his right.

Looking up from his huddled place on the ground he saw Sabine rounding the corner, her head snapping from side to side before running down to him. A hand came to his right shoulder, attempting to roll him over and look at his face, stained with dirt and ash from explosions. Pulling him up to the side, he was met with the hazel-gold eyes, ones he had dreamt about for years, looking worriedly into his. The eyes strayed to his right arm, bleeding, burnt and throbbing. Her eyes returned to his and, in his dazed and pained state, he allowed himself to be lost, scanning her beauty; her angled chin, subtle curvature of her cheeks along her cheekbones, which were set high upon her face. His delirious gaze drifted to her moving lips at which point he realized that he was being spoken at, the shrill resonance of the shell shock leaving him as her voice penetrated through the thick fog that lay across his senses. Her hand rose to his left shoulder, shaking him constantly as to bring him back from the dead.

“I know it hurts, but we’ve got to move. With the Phantom down, we have to get Tristane and head to the hanger bay. He’s not far from here, come! ” she urgently whispered to him, returning her helmet to its place over her face. As she stood, he noticed Kanan standing, his back to them as he guarded for any incoming threats, his blue blade standing strong and proudly in front of the Knight. On instinct, Ezra raised his right arm to summon his lightsaber, only to be met with mind-numbing pain. He doubled over, his breath hitching as he snapped his head around in fear of being caught unawares and unarmed. Manually, he reached for his lightsaber awkwardly with his left hand, igniting the emerald blade.

“Kanan…” he whispered, “What if we run into inquisitors? I’ll be useless.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to that...as usual.” he grimaced, yet a smile graced the man’s lips. With that, the turned and followed the Mandalorian down to the intersection which she came from, her blasters a pointing in two separate directions. Turning her head back to them, she felt a pang of distress at the limping man coming behind her but shook it from her head and returned her mind to the task at hand.

“He’s just down the hall, not too far,” she whispered to him, evidently worried that his wounds were excruciatingly painful. Swallowing his embarrassment as a handicapped Jedi with limp, he grumbled, through deep breaths of

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage.”

She paused for a second, looking at him through her visor, then returned to the task of taking point, Kanan coming up on the rear to watch behind them. The corridors were effective at distancing the enemies from the trio, rendering two of them useless in offensive movements and the third outgunned. As they rounded another corner, they were met with a metal door far thicker and secure than those around, signifying that the prisoner was of greater import and concern to the Empire than the rest. Crouching at the control panel in front, Sabine was able to slice her way through the security console, her success indicated by the audible click and hiss of the durasteel door opening.

“Tristan?” Sabine called out, her voice small and anxious, fearful of the convoluted and conflicting feelings her brother might have. Her eyes scanned the dark cell yet could see nothing through the pitch darkness the embraced the cell, her eyes lacking the night vision afforded by the helmet now cradled in her arm. Slowly, a shape emerged from the shadows, thin and gaunt, sickly and feverishly shaking. A scraggly beard encompassed a bony jaw, covering his sharp chin. Yet his hazel-gold eyes shone with determination, happiness, confidence and moreover; Love.

“Hello, Sabine. How’s my little sister?” came his question, his voice shaking and breaking at the mention of his sibling. His emotions were raw and evident in his face, his eyes softening at the sight of his aged sister. Tentatively, Sabine walked towards him, holstering her blasters. Peering at his face once more, recognizing the tears that formed in her older brother’s eyes. Seeing so, she wrapped her hands around his bony chest, burying her face within it. Soon after, one could see the slight shaking of her shoulders, the ragged breaths and staggered sniffling as she broke down in her brother’s arms. Not a care went to them as the others stood there.  
Finally pulling away, Sabine said,

“The beard doesn’t suit you, brother.”  
A weak laugh came from her brother, followed by a cough that caused him to double over. Evidently, the man was weak and sickly.  
“Sabine, we best move. They must already know that we’re here.” came the logical order from Kanan, ignoring the building emotions in the claustrophobic cell, shattering the moment that had caused time to freeze. His fingers agitatedly shifted in his fist, the thumbing of the stormtrooper’s boots a clear signal that they had overstayed their welcome in the facility.

Sabine nodded at Kanan, breaking the embrace she held her brother in, to turn around and leave the cell. She did, however, spare a glance at the huddled form leaning against the cell walls for support. His blue hair singed and black with soot, his right arm cradled against his chest. His arm had gone numb, yet the man tried his damn hardest not to show the weakness, his ego and honor taking precedence over common sense. Grabbing his other arm gently, she motioned for him to follow, murmuring her concerns again. He replied with stubbornness, as Sabine had expected, yet she could not stop the anger which sprawled across her face as a result. Ignoring the burn in her heart to slap the man, she pushed past the narrow exit of the cell door.  
The group made their way through the twisting corridors, their speed ensuring that there couldn’t be an overt concentration of stormtroopers upon their position. Ezra simply cowered behind the metal indents along the wall, his iron resolve egging his bent and broken body onwards - to the join the fight, in some eyes, or to certain death, in other’s eyes. Cursing his uselessness, he trudged onwards and attempted, along with his friends, to find a way out of the prison that was a living nightmare. The team came to a stop at a thick grey wall, void of character and life. A console, similar in color and originality, stood to the right, a red light flashing to indicate that the door was locked from the other side. A preventive measure to be sure but not a surprise.

“Kanan, where's Hera?”

His master glanced at him, the unseeing eyes hiding something that even their bond wouldn't uncover. His eyes averted immediately afterward, looking down the hallway in stoic silence; a knight on vigil. Concern gripped Ezra in an iron grip as he grabbed Kanan’s arm, shaking him, and asking forcefully,

“Where is she, Kanan?”

“She left. The rebellion called-”

The silence was deafening, the meaning of the words hitting Ezra forcefully, his face thrown through sets of emotions. Rage, pain, anger, confusion, sadness, and many more passed through his face as he attempted to comprehend the effects of what had just happened. But he knew this was not the time, nor place, to argue or fight about this. They would need to settle this later. Burying his ravage emotions, he asked his master,

“Does Sabine know? That she left? And Zeb? I assume he still with her?”

“No, she doesn’t know anything…And yes Zeb left with her. Once he heard that they were avenging his planet and his people…his word of which he gave his people forced his hand. Sometimes…sometimes it’s better to have one vow than ten”  
Noticing Sabine was within earshot as they approached her and Tristan, Kanan quickly resorted to their non–verbal communication through their force bond,

_Perhaps now isn’t the best of time to break it to her. Hera already mentioned that she was required to be redeployed elsewhere on Mandalore, but only told me at the last minute that she was being dragged off world. I thought it was best to keep it buried till later but... I think she got called for a major offensive against the Empire elsewhere. We just got the confirmation that Admiral Raddus, regardless of the Mon Cala’s affinity to peace with the Empire, will stand by our side during the fights to come, so it could only be logical that the Rebellion was calling in their fleet for an offensive._

Nodding, he turned to find the remaining two of the group still huddled around the small panel with Sabine attempting to break through the door. Minutes passed, the Imperial grey of the corridors pushing down on the intruders, squeezing them, suffocating them. To his relief, there were a few yet extremely quiet clicks that alerted him to the door. The massive steel door shifted, bisecting horizontally, opening vertically. On the other side was a group of Imperial Officers, huddled around computers and information panels, oblivious to the intrusion of the rebels. At first, none of the rebels did anything, unsure if they should shoot or hide. Sabine solved this problem by shooting the officers. Four shots, all hitting their mark center mass.

  
Ezra glanced at Kanan, yet his father figure did not return his gaze and simply pushed on. He offered no communication through his link either. Confused yet mature enough to leave it for the time being he to pushed forward, eager to finish this mission. Sticking close and quiet, the group made their way through winding maze, meeting no resistance. Ezra pushed himself past the others and towards Sabine, who was leading the group.  
“Where are we heading?” he asked, concerned that they were going nowhere, or merely in circles. He glanced around again as he heard shouting, yet it was only an echo, the sound was coming from far away.

“Ideally? To the hanger.”

“What? What do you mean ideally?” he asked incredulously, the pain in his arm leading to anger to take hold quickly.  
Other recent events didn’t help the situation either. Her mind strained and body stressed, Sabine made no attempt to hide her anger from the arrogant man, replying  
“I mean that if we survive this bullshit that we’re trying to get through and get in a ship that doesn’t get blown out of the sky by the anti-air, we might have a kriffing chance of getting out of the mess we’re in. What won’t help is your childish attitude.”

Her tone was clipped yet did not raise in tempo nor did it crescendo. Simply a civil reply with not-so-civil words. She did not even stop her brisk pace nor acknowledge Ezra any further. His eyes hardened at her word, yet he knew better than to respond at the time. Sabine herself almost winced at her words yet knew she couldn’t apologize now. They would have time for that when they get away from the prison.

Suddenly it hit her. The consoles from whence they came. The officers were of a decent enough rank where they would have access to the mainframe of the prison; its architecture, layout, and mapping. Their badges, both a substitute for an ID and pass card, would give them access to these things. Thankfully, they shouldn’t have moved from where they lay dead, a hundred or so meters back. Understanding that she would be faster than the others and that only she knew how to access the mainframe, she knew she had to do this alone.

She went to Kanan, quickly explaining, telling him that she planned to get a copy of the map and aid them through the mission. His shocked face turned to one of confusion then acknowledgment.

“Alright. Regardless, if it wasn’t a good idea, there wouldn’t be anything that could stop you.”

“Well, …at least I can blow my self out of the situation, Kanan.” She argued, smiling before sprinting away.

Grumbling in response, he turned to take guard for the remaining team, his back to them. He was surprised when he didn’t sense Ezra, nor did hear him say anything for a time. Turning around, he was met with the presence of Tristan, yes, but still couldn’t sense his apprentice.

“He climbed through the vents, didn’t he?” he asked the Mandalorian  
In response, chuckling, Tristan replied,

“Gotta respect that he still wants to fight with this off-hand. I mean those blaster shots look pretty bad. Must have a real good reason to destroy the Empire.”

“Yea…they probably killed his parents. And attempted to destroy his homeworld.”

“Yea, they have a bad habit of doing that, don’t they?” Tristan replied, glumly yet his voice still laced with mirth.  
_\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ \-------------------  
Sabine ran furiously through the hallways, trying to quickly get back to the officers which she gunned down, their consoles her main priority. To her dismay, the door’s which she spent vital minuets opening were closed once again, remotely, to prevent further Rebel intrusion. Quickly, she got down on her knees to hack the console but was surprised when the door opened on its own, presenting the wounded Jedi. He met her gaze indifferently, handing her a tiny chip which fitted into her gauntlet, allow them to have a small pop-out of a map. She simply stared at him, confused, with questions running through her mind.

“But…how?” she asked, confused on a great many things. She opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by him,

“Look, you’re not the only one who can hack a console but apparently I can crawl faster than you run. Now let’s get off this shit hole they call a prison.” He stated curtly, and to the point

Agreeing, she placed the chip into her gauntlet, bringing up a map of the place. To their relief, they were heading in the right direction, just a bit further and they would hit the hanger bays. Making their way back, Kanan greeted him with a sad shake of his head, yet Ezra could feel the approval emanating from him. Without a word, the team pushed ahead, following Sabine through the grey corridors. Soon they were faced with a thick blast door, separating them from the hanger. With no obvious hacking console in sight, the two Jedi took out their lightsabers and thrust their blades through the door.

  
The sudden motion caused pain to flare in Ezra’s arm, his breathing labored in a poor attempt to hide his pain. Gasping he pushed on but knew he couldn’t keep up with the simple task. Thankfully, they managed to cut a hole through the door. Climbing through, they were met with an empty hanger. Not empty of ships, but empty of pilots. Behind them, the secondary emergency blast doors were enacted, trapping the team within.  
A lone, tall, dark figure stood in the distance, twenty meters away. His labored breathing audible to the Rebels, his mask void of any emotion other than hate and anger. No stormtroopers came to the aid of Darth Vader. Locking his stance to oppose the Rebels, the silence stretched. Minutes passed of hearing the mechanical breaths of the machine-man in front of them. No movements were made. Finally, it was Vader that broke the silence,  
“Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger. A master and his apprentice, I see. Very well. I am forced to give you a choice. Join me or be destroyed. Let me show you the power of the dark side.”  
In response, the able bodies master ignited his sapphire blade, followed by his now much slower apprentice with his emerald blade.

Kanan quickly gave out orders,

“Sabine, go. This isn’t your fight. Ezra you can’t-”

“I am not going to watch you die, Kanan. I can’t-” came the heated response from Ezra, his eyes lighting up in defiance.

“I am not going to allow you to die either!” replied Kanan, his whisper urgent and stressed. Yet his apprentice gave him his defiant look, and, with his left hand, handled his green lightsaber.

“I’ll be rusty and clumsy with my off hand, but we can buy enough time for the others to get out. That’s the plan, right?”

“Yea.”

Finally, Sabine responded, her honor and loyalty causing her to burst out,

“And you think I’m about to take orders from you two? On running away?”

“Yes, get Tristan to safety. He can’t fight” Came the curt reply from both the Jedi’s, their mind working together for in the preparation of a fight.

Scowling, Sabine had a better idea than just running. However, she needed to make sure that her brother got to safety. His life was the whole purpose they were her. Her mind scrambled to think of a plan, to get them away from the mechanical monster that menaced in front of them, but was cut short when her brother’s hand grabbed hers,

“Look, Sabine…the TIE’s. We can use them!” he whispered urgently in her ear, trying to aid her attempt at finding a way out to help the battle that was to come.

Vader, on the other hand, was far too preoccupied with the possibility of killing two Jedi to fathom a thought for the Mandalorians, their fates were sealed within his plan regardless of what they tried. Igniting his tortured, crimson blade, he stepped forward, initiating the duel that would take place between the three of them.  
Oblivious to the Rebels, the ships and refueling stations were all rigged with explosives, the timers ticking down as the struggled to leave the Imperial stronghold. Vader couldn’t help a moment of glee and, to his later horror, happiness that arouse by outsmarting the Jedi and Rebels through strategy rather than resorting to mere strength. However, the Jedi could feel the change in feelings within the dark lord, his serious overtone turning to one of smug victory.

  
Ezra turned to see Sabine running towards a docked fighter, her brother in tow. Mere twenty meters away. A sense of dread crept upon him as he realized that, without a stroke of his saber, the dark lord had won.  
His master acted, turning to call Sabine back from the ship, to tell her it was a trap but soon saw his apprentice sprinting towards her. Kanan remembered a lesson he was once taught by Grand Master Yoda: A Jedi should never fear, for fear leads to anger, which leads to hate, to suffering. To the Dark Side. The fear he felt could’ve turned him into something worse than Vader and Palpatine combined, but he wouldn’t care. The only thoughts were on how he could save his children’s impending doom. He too took off running, but inside he knew he was too late.

The explosions ripped through the hanger, turning the docked ships into shrapnel of shards, flying. Tristan, who was leading Sabine, was caught face front with the explosion, the shockwave sending him flying backward and into his sister. The shrapnel that followed sliced through Tristan’s body. Sabine, covered by her brother, was not subject to any of the deadly metal, yet heard his screams of pain as he was flung into her, crashing them both to the floor.  
Sabine looked above, her brother’s body draped across her, as she lay on the floor. To her horror the roof started to crumble, the cement and steel support failing to hold back the impending sheet of glass and metal alloy. Chucks weighing tons fell, and Sabine prepared herself to die at the hands of a ceiling.

_What a daughter I made, huh. Made a weapon that killed my own people, ran away with a ragtag bunch of Rebels and, now, got myself killed by a bunch of shitty bricks… Did I mention I probably got my brother killed?_

She closed her eyes and waited for the flash of pain and the darkness that would ensue yet all she heard was grunts of excursions and a single word, pained and garbled, yelled,  
“GO!” Ezra cried, as he held he boulders from hitting her. He stood above her, his hands outstretched above his head, his body visibly shaking from the strain.  
“Go…” he cried weakly, as his strength faltered continuously. She gathered herself quickly and tugged her brother’s body from underneath Ezra to safety a few meters away. She was about to call to him, to run towards her, until another explosion ripped through the hanger, throwing them all into the air.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Shuddering to breathe, Ezra could see the holes in the ceiling above him. The sky outside was ripe with stars and nearby planets, their colors varied immensely. Rubble lay across his chest but he couldn’t move his arms. The pain, while there and very evident to his sense, was downplayed by the satisfaction of saving, at the least, Sabine. Perhaps their last conversation wasn’t the finest, but he was prepared to forgive her.  
With each breath he took, it felt his chest was going to collapse under the strain. Yet, when he thought it unbearable to continue breathing and resigned himself to death, he started to feel the pressure ease. A low moan escaped his chest, pained yet relieved that he could breathe.

  
Soon, his sense of hearing returned, where he heard a distinct noise: A person’s heavy breathing. Soon, more of his sight became uncovered as the rocks were moved from his face, revealing Sabine’s face. Her eyes widened at the state of Ezra’s body, bloodied and burnt. His left leg was covered by a sizeable chunk of the ceiling, probably breaking it, while his right arm was completely crushed by another. Ezra followed her gaze to his arm, silently coming to terms that he wouldn’t have that arm for much longer. His other arm now free, he attempted to shift the boulder that broke his legs but only managed to elicit a searing pain which caused him to let out a shriek. Gasping, he looked at Sabine, her face covered in soot and small burns.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, his chest heaved at the effort to speak yet he ignored it.

“No, don’t worry about me…just rest. We’ll get you out of there. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” She cooed in response, evidently trying to comfort the man that could very well die.

“You know, I can read your mind…even though I said I wouldn’t. I know I can die, you-”

“You don’t know that! Don’t you dare die on me!” she exclaimed, anger and pain lighting her eyes up.

“I try my best Sabine…” he whispered, laying back down on the jagged rocks that dug into the small of his back.

“I know…just-just don’t die, Ezra…please.”

Nodding, he used his remaining arm to continue to push at the boulder trapping his leg, the pain causing him to gasp and swallow a scream. The pain shot through his leg again as the boulder finally fell off, leaving him whimpering in pain. He attempted to move his right hand but was excruciatingly reminded that his arm was trapped beneath another boulder.

“You know…you owe me. You both do…” he managed to whisper, his voiced evidently pained yet his eyes still gleamed with mirth and an arrogance that only he had. She sniffled quietly, laughing halfheartedly, before looking away for a moment.

“He didn’t make it. He bled to death before I came to.” She whispered, her eyes filled with tears of regret and misery.

“I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough. First, I make a weapon in which its sole purpose is to destroy my people, I run away instead of dying an honorable death and now…now I killed my-”

“You did not kill him, Sabine…the Empire did. You tried to save him!” he told her, his voice urgent, wanting her to see the false logic in which she hurts herself with. “That’s why we’re here, Sabine. To save him from-” he broke off, turning to the side to cough. Taking a shuddering breath, he attempted to continue but was stopped as a cough came back, racking his body.

“Shh, stop. You’re hurting yourself, Ezra. Stop…” she whispered to him, her hand slowly coming to cup his cheek. Her tears were sliding off her face and hitting him, streaming down alongside his own tears of pain.

“You know, Sabine, your still beautiful when you're sad. But when you smile,” he winked at her.  
She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. His lousy attempts at flirting were becoming more and more endearing to her.

  
“There it is.” He said, content, laying his head back against the rocks. His eyes started to droop, weariness and sleep seemingly dragging him into darkness.

  
“Hey, Ezra, don’t go. I’m right here.” She pleaded, shaking him slightly to get his attention.

“The arm. Its gotta go, Sabine. No way I’m going to survive if you push the rock off. I’ll bleed to death.” He said, taking a deep breath. With his freed hand, he handed her his lightsaber. Her eyes widened at his request. She hesitantly gripped the handle, her hands shaking with fear.

“Before you…” he gestured at his arm, “tell me. What happened to Kanan? Is he alright?”  
Sabine took another breath before shaking her head again, tears pooling once more in her eyes. The explosions, shrapnel…everything. I don’t know. The roof collapsed between us and I just got to you-”  
Grabbing her hand with his own, stopping her mid-sentence. He gazed into her eyes, allowing the silence to stretch on between them.

“Its ok. You’re doing your best, Sabine. For me, and the crew, that’s what counts.” Taking another breath, he continued, “In case I don’t make it…tell me now. Did you truly only do it because you were drunk, Sabine?”

Her eyes widened at his question, yet she silently cursed herself for not seeing this coming. She thought back to the moment they had that night. And it wasn’t a lousy kiss either, but did she mean it to him the same way he meant it to her? She knew that playing with his feelings was beyond wrong; she had to stay truthful to them both. She opened her mouth to reply yet was stopped. She let her mind wander that night again, to the feelings that they had, the situation. Why it got that way. She realized that she could’ve quietly gotten another bottle and gone back to her room, yet she did nothing of the sorts. Instead, she sat with him, drank with him, joked and kissed. She gazed back down to the fiery blue eyes that stared up at her, full of compassion, understanding; love. Even on the brink of death, he loved her. She couldn’t deny that. Moreover, she couldn’t deny the first thing she thought about was him, rather than her brother or Kanan. If Ezra had been hurt. If Ezra was alive. Tears were now streaming down her face as she knew her response.

“No…I did it because…because I love you, Ezra,” she choked out, knowing that this might be the last time they see each other. “By the force, you better survive because your ‘one with the force’ bullshit won’t save you from my wrath, Bridger.”  
He smiled contently, running his hand across her cheek. She leaned into his touch, his fingertips grazing her cheekbones.

  
“Do it, Sabine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok....uhhh...I'm back??? I have no excuse so I made a 5k word chapter for yall. SO the summer is coming up but exams next week soo....2 weeks???????? I know its been bloody months since i updated it but I think I did ok on this one. What do you guys think? Thats what I want to know, because thats how I make this better. Jokes aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and tell me why, so I continue doing that, and if you disliked the chapter, also tell me why so I can fix that. 
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> TBW


	6. Chapter 6

The weight of the saber hilt was something she did not expect. Far heavier than the Darksaber, the plain steel fell heavy upon her fingers, similarly to how her imminent duty had. The colorless hilt angered her, for a moment. Its similarity to the Empire reminds her that using color was what psychologically fought against the Imperial presence in the Galaxy. Her blasters did the dirty work. She took in a shuddering breath, her shoulders shook at the effort to calm herself down. Everything was too fast for the young warrior, her losses, her family…her love. Her finger slid down the colorless handle, over its circular frame and to the red trigger its base. Easy to see, hard to impress yet light enough to quickly activate without much hassle. Its physical handiwork was impressive to the Mandalorian, even to one wearing the Beskar armor of her ancestors. Rubbing her fingers over the crimson trigger, she relished the contrast it made with the grey yet wished for a more intricate design upon the entire hilt, combined with colors. She felt her thoughts starting to digress and pushed herself back into the present by pulling the trigger fully, flush to the hilt. For a moment, there was complete silence. Then a green blade appeared, its warm hum breathing life into the surroundings. The color bounced off the woman’s face and cast a green shade across the rubble around the duo.

  
  
  


Swallowing thickly, Sabine looked down at Ezra after what seemed like minutes but was, in reality, mere seconds, his face scarred and bleeding, his body battered and broken, his life seemed on the edge and begging for a resolution; one way or another. One of his arms lay buried beneath rubble, blood evidently seeping through at an alarming rate. She knew his chances were slim enough with his arm, but also escaping with the Empire bearing down on them, finding Kanan. Carrying her brother’s body to bury respectfully.

  
  
  


A pained gasp brought her from the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind right before key moments of her life. Her calculations sometimes lead to the opportunity presented to slip by her fingers. But in this case, it was another’s life slipping through her fingers. She light raised her left hand, her other hand tightly gripping the boring and compliant blade, to touch his face. A small sigh escaped his lips as he took comfort in her touch, leaning in.

 

“Sabine…Do it.” He whispered again, begging her to bring pain and dismemberment to him to save his life.

 

“I…I…” she managed, unable to look at him, her strength failing her when she needed it, “I need you, Ezra. I can’t do this to you, please!” she begged.

 

“You can. You’re strong and I trust you to save my life, Sabine.” He replied, his voice quiet yet brimmed with emotion and love. “It’s the right choice. We do what’s right, not what’s easy. That’s how we beat the Empire. The easy way catches up to us, one way or another.” He finished with a cough, gasping for breath as he went through the fit. “Please, Sabine. Just do it.”

  
  
  


Sabine gazed into the teal, electric blue eyes of the man before her, wishing she could take the pain from him, suffer alongside him. But she also knew that her wish was unattainable and impossible. She had to cut his right arm off, but she wasn’t going to let words be the last interaction between them. A Mandalorian always answered with action.

  
  
  


Firmly, yet with finesse, she cupped his cheeks, watching in satisfaction as his somber and tired eyes opened with confusion and awe. His lips parted to take in a breath, to ask her what she was doing, to question her every action. Yet he couldn’t speak. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the soft caressing of Sabine’s own lips upon his own froze his mind and body. The pain disappeared as he responded to her action, nipping her lower lip in their antagonizing game of love. His free hand came behind to hold the back of her head, holding her hair with a soft fist. As the seconds drew onwards, the man tried his luck and, lacking the finesse displayed by his partner, aggressively bit her lower lip. She wasn’t expecting this, her mind stopping at his ministration of her mouth, panting slightly.  Sensing the gap in her trenches open, he rushed in with renewed vigor. He roughly gripped the hair at the back of her head and pushed his mouth into hers.

  
  
  


Sabine’s mind blanked again, as she attempted to overcome his aggressiveness with her own. She surprised herself that her attempt at self-control failed and she let out a whimper followed by a keening moan from the top of her throat. She knew that this was a lost battle. He had won; her noises a clear flag of surrender. Pulling back, she was left panting, her heart rushing and her mind blank.

 

“I’ll do it now, Bridger.”

 

…

  
  
  
  
  


All she could remember were the cries of pain. She tried to block out the inevitable shrieks that would come from his mouth yet the sounds pierced through the haze that surrounded her mind. Grinding her teeth, she deactivated the lightsaber and wrapped her arms around the shuddering, crying and delirious frame in front of her. She buried her face into his short-cropped, indigo hair and coaxed him into breathing with whispers and pleas. She couldn’t bear to look at the wound she had caused him, regardless of what they meant to each other now; even as a friend it was nigh impossible. Swallowing the bile accumulating in her throat, Sabine deftly wrapped her right arm around his back and her left arm under his legs, lifting Ezra up. She could smell the charred and burnt stump that dangled out of her grasp; she barely managed to stifle a gag. Stumbling, she frantically glanced around in search of any means of escape. Shouts could be heard echoing around, bouncing off the walls and alerting Sabine to the enemies closing in on them. The blast doors were shut, stopping any means of escape on foot to other parts of the prison. The ship hangar, in which they were in, was surrounded in fires, broken steel support beams lay strewn across the floor and a collapsed ceiling opened the hangar to the night sky above, now slightly tinged with a rising orange hue.

  
  
  


All she could do was walk onwards, looking forlornly at her brother’s body lying dismembered and bloodied. Gritting her teeth, she bit back the tears threatening to spill from the back of her eyes, averting her eyes from the body. A blaster awkwardly in hand, she trudged forward and faced the barrier that separated them and Kanan. Fallen concrete and other rubble stood between them, Kanan’s shouts just prior to the explosion ringing in her ears as she tried, in vain, to replay the events that occurred. Her brother's gleeful expression as they had thought that they outsmarted and outplayed a sith lord. The silence that stretched as they spirited away

  
  
  


Force, I’m lost, probably dead, and Ezra is the way he is because...because of my actions.

  
  
  


The shouts of the stormtroopers neared but they still seemed muffled and silenced by something. Soon she heard blaster fire erupt from the others side, with cries of pain and agony following the shots. Within seconds the fire had subsided into silence, the only sound being the continuous groans of the metal that shifted under the ever crumbling roof. Immediately, her thoughts shifted to Kanan, the only person that could be alive. Explosions continued to rip apart the hanger behind her, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. Glumly, she accepted the high probability of her death if she didn’t act quickly and effectively. Taking a deep breath, she cried out.

 

…

  
  
  


Kanan simply looks onwards in shock as the hanger exploded around him while the roof collapsed, separating him from the other three. A sense of dread engulfed his sense, anger surging through his veins.

  
  
  


“Give in to your anger, Kanan Jarrus. It is the only way to save yourself.” droned the dark lord, his lightsaber deactivated and sent flying to his own hips with a flick of a finger. Kanan gritted his teeth, attempting to push off the desires to destroy everything that surrounded him, to kill the cocky and arrogant sith before him. But it wasn’t just his apprentice that worried him. Reaching out through the force, Kanan felt, rather saw, two life forms. They lay together, flat on the ground. One was slightly injured, her life force strong and present. The other, who apparently took the brunt of the explosion, was dying quickly. Kanan watched in horror as the life force slipped from the figure, its light diminishing before him.

  
  
  


His attention was drawn back to the present when the Vader continued,

 

“You seem...hesitant. Perhaps you still have hope.”

  
  
  


Mechanical breathing interrupted the dark lord’s words, eerily enunciating them further.

 

“I can sense him. He’s alive.” he struggled through gritted teeth. He felt his pain, their link throbbing in agony as he lay below the rubble.

  
  
  


“Then...who died? Which Mandalorian?” asked Vader, he quizzical question laced with sarcasm and arrogance only seen in the sith.

  
  
  


“No-one di-”

  
  
  


“One of the Mandalorians, Jarrus. One of them died.” came the bored and drawn statement, prodding the anger boiling within him.

  
  
  


Kanan shut his eyes, attempting to block out the truth but to no avail. He knew one of them had died. He knew there was no use fighting it. He had seen it with his own eyes, the life slipping from the body, its consciousness joining the force that surrounded them. He imagined Sabine’s body, lying buried, broken and bloodied. Her last thoughts of how he had failed her, to protect her, to stop her death.

  
  
  


By the force, what am I to…

  
  
  


His thoughts trailed off, with no answer to any question being acceptable. His mind went through the memories they had shared, how they found her abandoned, alone, desperate. How she fought tooth, nail and, unironically, blaster to keep her emotional walls up. How he had slowly broken them down and found how young and alone she truly was. How he and Hera had brought her back up. How they had practically raised her once more from the broken mess she was.

  
  
  


“You’re lying. You’re powerful, you could be messing with me. My mind, my abili-”

  
  
  


“I am not. I only feel your apprentice and one more. This person...they have a similar signature to someone… someone I have not felt in a long time.” muttered the dark lord, his mind too was wandering.

  
  
  


Kanan could take no more, his eyes focused on the machine before him, his anger raging as never before. His hand tightened on his lightsaber, its blade emanating blue light; bouncing off the walls and floor. Immediately the dark red eye covers of Vader locked onto Kanan’s. A snort came from the machine, its fingers quickly gripping the saber hilt once lying comfortably at the side.

  
  
  


“You’re no Jedi. You feel anger. You feel fear. You feel...you feel lost.” came the sadistic analysis, its body motionless yet attentive to the occasional shudder and twitch of the human before him. Silence was Kanan’s answer, prodding Vader to continue,

  
  
  


“But you don’t fear me, do you? No, you don’t fear death because you know there is something afterward...something you can achieve...but can your apprentice do so?” came the monotonous question, causing Kanan’s eyebrows to narrow. His fingers tightening on the plain, grey-black handle of his lightsaber.

 

“I can grant your wish, Jedi. Death is easy to give, but hard to take back. So make your choice wisely because after you.” continued Vader, his fingers coming up to point at the Jedi Knight before him. “I will break your apprentice, make him my own. Twist him to my rule, to follow my bidding.” he threatened, painfully grinning under his mask.

  
  
  


Kanan’s eyes filled with unbridled rage, unseen by anyone. Growling, the man lunged forwards, his body a mere blur with his speed. Akin to an arrow, he covered the distance between the two of them in a split second, his vision red. With a yell, he aimlessly swung his saber, feeling the blade slow as it hit a hard substance. He stumbled past the Dark Lord, his body moving too fast for his feet, as he heard the mechanical cry of pain and anger.

  
  
  


Huddled, with his back to the Jedi, Vader held his shoulder and face. His robotic breathing was now laced with the occasional hiccup, falter or gasp. Straightening his back, Vader turned back to Kanan. His shoulder pad lay disjointed, ajar with the rest of the armor and hanging by a small flap of metal. In anger, the dark lord ripped the pauldron from his shoulder, discarding it like it was a mere disappointment. Below the black shoulder pad was a body suit of sorts, hiding and protecting the skin of Vader. Kanan’s eyes went from the damage he inflicted on the shoulder to the face, his eyes widening. The mask lay in ruins, half of it was cut off exposing the face beneath it. The eyes, once the blue of humans, was the yellow of a sith. Vader’s face contorted in anger as he realized that his mask was damaged and broken, his eyes narrowing at the Jedi before him.

  
  
  


In deafening silence, Vader walked towards Kanan, anger falling off of him in waves. Kanan, recovering from his sudden burst of anger, readied himself for the fight between them.

  
  
  


This is it. He thought, defeat running through his body. He knew he stood no chance against Darth Vader. He was a renowned Jedi killer, arriving just days after the rise of the Empire. He cleared systems of Jedi and their influence, knowledge, and way of life. He was the one proposed to mine Jeddah for the Kyber, desecrating the holy planet and its resources.

  
  
  


This is where I die. Where I fail, myself, Ezra, Sabine.

  
  
  


Shaking his head, he felt the fight leave him. His shoulders slumped. The anger he felt mere seconds ago had dissipated into defeatism, leaving him drained, weak and tired. Vader continued his walk, time moving in slow motion, his face in a constant show of pain, anger, strength, and evil.

  
  
  


“I gave you an opportunity, Jedi. You failed to see it. A shame, truly. Any Jedi able to damage me... it is...impressive. You could’ve become my apprentice, helped me overthrow the Emperor, your rebel friends would’ve been spared. But now,” he said menacingly, “now you pay for your inability to see. You pay for your blindness.”

  
  
  


I won’t go meekly, nor silently, into the dark. He told himself, the determination once again coursed through his veins. He may well die, but he will do so on his own terms.

  
  
  


Their sabers clashed, red on blue, a light purple produced at the vertex of their blades. Kanan grimaced at the weight behind his opponents attack, his legs staggering. Breaking the clash, Kanan whipped his blade at the dark lord’s feet, hoping to misposition him, to open his defenses. To his surprise and horror, Vader whipped his blade around to protect his shin with lightning speed, his eyes never leaving the terrified blue of Kanan’s. Growling, Vader shoved Kanan’s blade aside with ease, whipping up to slash the exposed chest before him. Kanan hastily stepped back, the blade missing him by millimeters. The heat from the blade pierced his heart, the fear coursed through his veins.

  
  
  


Vader took advantage of the dazed Jedi, who’s lightsaber lay unprepared and his body opened. Stepping forward, he jabbed a Kanan, center mass, in hopes of quickly and cleanly ending the duel. Kanan, with a knee-jerk reaction, swiped Vader’s blade away. His eyes narrowed, his mind focused. Tightening the grip on his hilt, he kept his eyes directly on his opponent, adrenaline surging through his blood. With a yell, Kanan attacked, eyeing the open shoulder of Vader as a weak spot, noticing the steadily labored breaths of the machine before him.

  
  
  


Vader was once again surprised. He felt the loss in Kanan, he could see the sorrow and pain he felt. He knew he would put up a fight but not this fiercely. Shifting, he dodged the anger filled, mistimed attacks by the Jedi, watching in glee as he stumbled by him. While he had misjudged and underestimated the resolve and skill of the Jedi, then the facts stayed the same; he was no match for Darth Vader. Grinning to himself, he swung his saber at the Jedi, catching the small of his back with the tip. The yowl of pain that followed fueled Vader to inflict more. He waited patiently, however, so that his prey would feel the true power of the dark side, the true pain.

  
  
  


Kanan, staggering from the wound to his back, struggled to maintain his focus upon the ensuing battle. Desperate, he retreated away from the imposing figure which was Vader, hoping to buy himself some time. Gasping for breath, he swallowed thickly before attempting to ready himself once more. Vader, seeing that he was ready, spared no time in attacking again, easily pushing the weekend Jedi back.

  
  
  


With a mighty shove, Vader had pushed Kanan to his back, his pained crimson blade pointed at his chest while a mighty boot stepped upon Kanan’s sword hand. Grunting under the pressure, Kanan gritted his teeth from the pain. Vader, intrigued at the continued yet simultaneously pointless resistance and defiance, slowly twisted his boot. The bones beneath the boot began to snap; Kanan’s resolve shattered.

  
  
  


Pitiful shrieks and groans came from Kanan as his wrist was twisted and snapped. Panting, Kanan continued to think as all he could do was either accept death or try to fight it.

  
  
  


“If your apprentice is anything like you, he isn’t worth the time. I will finish that job once you are...taken care of.” Vader whispered, sadistically. Kanan could feel the anger pouring off of him, the hate, the dark side. He felt it flow into him, the fear, leading to the anger, the hate. His mind went back to when he first met Sabine, the girl that had been broken, used and cast aside. He and Hera who took her in broke down her walls. Got her to love herself once more. To trust others. To believe. His thoughts strayed to Ezra, how he found the mischievous bastard on Lothal, stealing one of their hard earned supply crates. How he, at first, was cocky, arrogant and, above all, stubborn. How they had slowly but surely turned him from a child into a man. How he had become caring and concerned for others rather than himself, putting himself in danger, even facing death, to save his crew. He fed off of his emotions, his love for his crew, his anger at Vader, at the Emperor, Order 66.

  
  
  


His left hand shot up, placing itself upon the boot of Darth Vader. Surprised, the dark lord grunted, turning his gaze from the hand he was crushing to the other now poised upon him. Grinning, Kanan summoned as much force as he could muster, taking energy from the dormant life sources around him, feeding off the very air which held force. With a yell, he concentrated his energy on the machine that was trying to kill him, that was going to kill his family, those who he loved.

  
  
  


Vader was sent flying across the hanger, crashing through multiple burning wrecks of TIE fighters and TIE bombers. He flew hundreds of feet before he fell out of the hanger and into the open air. Unsteadily rising to his feet, Kanan stood as he gasped for breath. His mind and body were exhausted from the release of energy and how he had to focus it. Sighing, he picked up his lightsaber and inspected it for any damage. Once satisfied, he trudged onwards, hoping to get to the other side of the collapsed roof. He heard shouting once more, but this was not that of his crew. Rather, it was the yelling of stormtroopers, their officer and the thudding of their boots signifying their approach. Readying himself Kanan saw as two squads of stormtroopers break open the secondary blaster doors, which had initially trapped the Ghost Crew, and stream in. With their guns ablaze, Kanan deflected the shots coming at him, taking advantage of their terrible aim by moving constantly.

  
  
  


Getting closer, he impaled one of the stormtroopers, his scream cut off as Kanan whipped his sword out and around, slicing his head off. Slashing two other troopers, Kanan smashed a third against the wall with the use of the force. Deflecting a shot which incapacitated another, Kanan easily dispatched the rest with precise slashes and stabs. Dusting himself off, small groan caught Kanan’s attention.

  
  
  


The stormtrooper, the one he had defected his shot too, lay bleeding on the floor. The red on the white armor reminded Kanan of the Coruscant Guards, one of the elite clone battalions that were only on the capital and under the direct control of Chancellor Palpatine. The stormtrooper paid Kanan no heed, nursing the blaster wound in the abdomen. Ripping her helmet off, the women underneath took a shuddering breath as she let out a small whimper of pain. Her long red hair ran down her armor, disheveled from the fighting, as she bent forwards to closely inspect the wound. She only knew Kanan was still there when he deactivated his lightsaber. She turned her green eyes from her wound to the blind Jedi.

  
  
  


“Good shot, Jedi…” she managed, her voice soft yet strained with pain. Calmly she continued, not waiting for the Jedi’s response.

 

“Better finish *cough* the job. Please, just make it quick,” she begged, her eyes pleading. She turned away and closed her eyes, leaning her head back on one of the boxes that she used for cover.

  
  
  


Kanan said nothing, yet reached into the small pack that hung by his waist and took out layers of bacta patches. Leaning over her, in dead silence, he unclasped her armor on her shoulder and waist, letting it fall to the ground in a heap. Tearing apart of the body suite, Kanan managed to expose her stomach. Deftly, he pushed a bacta patch upon the wound, earning a hiss and a string of curses from the stormtrooper. Her arm flew up to grasp her, her fingers dug painfully into his arm as she swore. Yet she sat comfortably just seconds later as the bacta patch work through the pain, numbing the area.

  
  
  


“I wouldn’t have killed you…” Kanan finally said, painfully sitting down as his back throbbed. His fingers agitatedly wrung themselves.

  
  
  


“Yea...I believe you now but...a few moments ago…” she trailed off, her eyes scanning the bodies.

 

“I knew a few of them...just got transferred to the squad a few days back…” she averted her eyes, shutting them as she swallowed thickly.

  
  
  


“I’m sorry...they left me little choice. It...it was them-”

  
  
  


“Or you...I know” she finished. “I never questioned your actions...in fact, I would’ve done the same. We had orders to kill you.” she continued. She shook her head, laughing grimly. “Was death sentence, if anything.”

  
  
  


With a sigh, her eyes scanned the bodies once more before returning to a communicator that lay on her belt. She gripped it, her eyes whipping to the Jedi who began to stand. She hastily put her other hand up; a gesture of peace. Kanan seemingly stopped mid stand and resorted to squatting.

  
  
  


“This is Stormtrooper...AA - 8040…” she trailed off, her green eyes scanning the Jedi once more, deciding if she should keep her word. Kanan made no move, simply observing her.

 

“Sector is clear, multiple KIA, hostile is...hostile is making his way to the reactor. On the other side of the prison,” she reported to head-command. Once she knew they had gotten the message, she reached for a secondary blaster, slipping it out of the heel of her boot, and shot the communicator. The red and green lights flashed before it shut off completely as the grey-black communicator finally died. A sigh escaped her lips, her eyes drooped as her arms fell to her sides.

  
  
  


“You...you best go. Leave me. I think they’ll just…” she shook her head.

  
  
  


“They’ll what?” Kanan asked, leaning forward on his haunches, peering closer at the stormtrooper. “Kill you?”

  
  
  


She laughed her face lifting even in such circumstances.

 

“No...my force no. If they killed every stormtrooper that lost you, we would have none left in several systems. No…” her eyes glazed over, looking into the distance pass Kanan. “It's our families they go after. Mine are dead and gone by now, courtesy of the CIS. But again...you best leave me. I won’t be of much help.”

  
  
  


Kanan attempted in standing but his back flared causing his legs to give out under him. Groaning, he grasped the wound which only stung even further. To his surprise, the lady reached over and rolled him on his stomach. With quick fingers, she reached into his pouch and picked up a bacta patch. Rolling up his shirt, she gasped initially at the wound. The stench came from the burnt skin and flesh caused her to gag, as her eyes watered. Stifling the tears, she put the bacta patch on the wound. Kanan’s body tensed as he bit back a yowl, but soon the pain dissipated and his back muscles relaxed.

  
  
  


“What's...what's your name?” Kanan hesitantly asked, his mind returning from the haze of pain it was in.

  
  
  


“...Kiana..” she answered, equally as hesitant. Her emerald eyes darted across him as she looked for any other wounds.

 

“You?”

  
  
  


“Kanan but...call me Caleb. Caleb Dume.” his told her, a knot tightening his chest. He didn’t know why but he felt he could trust her. She was here to save him at the end of the day. He trusted her with his true name. He almost shook his head. He never even told Hera till three years after meeting her.

  
  
  


Kiana opened her mouth, perhaps to ask a question, but was interrupted by a feminine shout that seemed muffled. Kanan whipped around, standing quickly and made his way to the ceiling-come-wall that stood between them. There was a chance he was wrong but he would take that bet.

  
  
  


“Sabine!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a month's wait but I was tasked with things to do, even during my summer. Regardless, for the rest of the summer, I can get a chapter out a month or so. In regards to the school year, which starts early August, I will have to see. I don't want to give this up but I have to prioritize my education. However, about this chapter, I want to know what you guys think. The good stuff and the bad stuff. Cheers,
> 
> TBW

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhh ok. I'm back guys. My other story, "Find me for I am alone", is facing REAL big issues with continuity. I mean, with the season finale and all, it felt outdated to continue with that. I felt the need to make a story where we could have Sabine and Ezra yet with Lothal still free and operations like Scarif and the war just over the horizon. Do I plan to finish this? Absolutely. I felt I pushed them together too fast in the previous fic, as I didn't really take into account the intricacies of human relationship building to the extent that I needed to. I will attempt to do so in this fic without blatantly pushing them together for the sake of this ship. I will try to make it as realistic as possible. Otherwise, I hope you guys liked this first chapter. Feedback is MUCH appreciated and needed as I need help with my writing skills. With that all said, may the force be with you all and thank you for reading!


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